Chapter Text
Hermione Granger stood above a simmering cauldron, her light brown hair becoming kinkier by the minute as the acidic steam from the cauldron permeated her unruly curls. It seemed to get worse every year.
Her new assistant should be here soon and she was thankful for it. She had begged Minister Shacklebolt for months for an assistant and the response had always been the same: maybe next quarter.
Well, several quarters had already come and gone and she still didn't have an assistant, until now. Apparently her report on how far behind her projects would by the end of this quarter finally changed his mind and the new person should be here sometime today.
Although she hated preparing time-altering potions by herself (it was like the damned stuff had a personal vendetta against her hair), she stirred with a lighter than usual heart today, knowing it wouldn't be her job anymore.
A high-pitched bell chimed above the heavy wooden door to her laboratory and she looked up sharply. She had no idea why anyone would be performing magic outside her door and she tried not to snarl, but these were temperamental potions and any unexpected magic could alter the results. The last thing she needed was another buffoon instead of an assistant.
She took her glass spoon out of the potion she was stirring carefully and tried to set it down gently, but banged it against the table in frustration in spite of herself.
She stormed across the lab and flung the door open to find herself face to face with Lucius Malfoy, who was looking at the door frame like he had never seen one before. His lowered to her and his lip curled.
"Can I help you?" Hermione asked in a frustrated voice.
Oh, Gods! Not him, not him, not him...
"Not anymore," Lucius said simply as he walked into her lab as she stood there holding the door. "Something is wrong with your door."
"It's charmed against magic, you lazy git!" Hermione barked at him. "And why are you even here?"
Lucius looked outraged at her 'lazy git' remark, but instead of arguing with her, he clenched his teeth and said: "I've been assigned to assist you as part of my community service."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something rude, but closed it. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
The man lost his wife in the last year, he found out his son was gay (effectively stopping the Malfoy bloodline dead in its tracks), and instead of enjoying a gentle retirement, the Malfoy accounts are still frozen down to a trickle from the war.
"The potions we're working on are very temperamental. You can't go around opening doors with magic anymore." Hermione said stiffly.
To her surprise, the lip curl disappeared and he looked as if he were fighting back interest. "What are you working on?"
"Time altering potions." Hermione turned on her heel, the snarl of hair that acted as her ponytail bobbing behind her. She returned to the cauldron she had been stirring. "The Ministry is finally trying to replace all the broken time-turners from— the mishap so many years ago."
Hermione knew he knew exactly what she was talking about. He was there as well, although on the other side of the fighting.
"Of course." Lucius drew himself up and tried to give Hermione an imperious look.
It would have intimidated the teenager she had been so many years back, but now that she was a Potions Mistress and Expert in Experimental Magics in her thirties, it failed to make her feel anything besides annoyance.
"Do you know the Thermine Theory of Manipulation?" Hermione asked him sharply.
"Of course. Severus was my best friend, after all." His face looked stonily devoid of emotion.
"Good." Hermione snapped, angry at herself for feeling guilty about Snape, and handed Lucius a clean glass spoon. "Then get to work."
Lucius raised an eyebrow and his nostrils flared at her as he took the spoon. "May I take off my outer robes first?"
"Suit yourself. I have to look up something, I'll be in the corner if you need me." And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked to a large pile of ancient books on an old, rickety wooden desk in the corner.
Lucius took his long black outer robes off, leaving him standing in a pair of black tailored trousers, a loose white linen shirt and a black silk vest. He rolled his sleeves up, remembering the last time he had done such a thing was when he was brewing potions with Severus so many years ago and he tried not to feel nostalgic about it.
He caught the Mudblood brat sneaking a peek at him over the top of a stack of books before pretending to research. He bit back the urge to snarl at her.
Lucius had made his unfortunate decisions. He had chosen the wrong side in a losing war, and now he would have to pay for it with his life. His wife was dead, his son was a poof that was shagging the-Boy-Who-Lived, and Lucius was working a paltry job at the Ministry he was overqualified for thirty years ago.
At least Draco didn't have to pay for the sins of his father. It was the only thing that kept Lucius going most days.
He picked up the glass spoon and dipped it into the potion twice. The potion looked a bit stringy to him rather than thick, but Granger probably knew what she was doing, Lucius had to reluctantly admit. Draco was proficient enough and the Mudblood girl had always outpaced him.
Lucius started stirring in a clockwise direction, pausing for five seconds after every third rotation. He tried not to snarl at the ends of his hair as he watched them slowly start to curl in the rising vapor. When the potion started to change to orange he called out for Hermione to give him his next order.
As unpleasant as she was acting, she hadn't physically assaulted him, insulted his family name, or called his son a fairy. In Lucius' eyes, this was better than the other assignments he had been given, curly hair aside. There was no reason to wreck her potion on purpose.
"It's not supposed to turn orange," Hermione slammed a book shut in frustration. "What have you done?"
"I stirred it correctly," Lucius said stiffly. "I did a seventh year project on Thermine. I know the principals well."
"You did?" Hermione didn't bother to hide her surprise.
"I am a potion's master in my own right, you know," Lucius smirked. He couldn't help himself.
"You are?" Hermione was examining her potion and frowning. "When did that happen?"
"Hogwarts," Lucius said in a deliberately offhanded way. "Never did anything with it after getting married."
He suddenly felt a lump in his throat. He forced it back down.
To his dismay, he had discovered the most mundane things could make him feel emotional these days. He missed Narcissa more with each passing day instead of the pain lessening.
It wouldn't do to tear up in the middle of feeling superior.
Hermione glanced at Lucius. She didn't say anything, but she now knew that look. She had seen it on Draco when his mother had died, a tragic accident during a friendly Quidditch game between her and Draco. He constantly blamed himself.
Hermione had been initially surprised when Harry had told her he was gay and even more when he had told her who he was seeing, but they had asked her to keep it a secret and she didn't know if Lucius knew yet, so she didn't feel comfortable talking to him about Draco since without Harry she didn't really have any reason for knowing anything about Malfoy affairs.
Hermione decided, since Draco was still living, and he was so sure a month ago that his father would kill him if he found out, that Draco had not told his father about his choice of partner.
That reminded her, she should really call Harry to make dinner plans. She hadn't seen them in about a month.
Hermione dipped the glass spoon into the potion and frowned. "I think it's ruined."
Lucius, just relieved she wasn't blaming him for the ruined potion, shrugged. "Was it an involved project?"
"I was trying to see if we could take a shortcut with the potion," Hermione shook her head. "Obviously not. It was fine until this morning! A week of preparation down the tubes!"
She growled in a way that reminded Lucius of Severus when he had ruined his first attempt at Polyjuice Potion years ago. Lucius had to choke back a chuckle. He really needed to be in better control of his emotions. It wouldn't do to cry or giggle in public. They were just looking for a reason to lock him up these days.
"Perhaps—" Lucius started and suddenly stopped. Small blue bubbles were starting to form in the center of the orange potion. "Is that supposed to happen?"
Hermione peered into the cauldron and her eyebrows went up. "No, it's not."
She grabbed a small glass straw on a nearby table, dipped it into the blue bubbles, plugging the other end with her finger, and drew it out of the potion. Where she had just withdrawn the straw, red liquid began pouring out.
"I can honestly say I've never seen anything like it." Lucius said, a look of astonishment on his face.
"How odd," Hermione said, forgetting she was supposed to be angry at her results. "I wonder what the different colors signify."
Then there was a flash from the center of the potion and Lucius had just enough time to instinctively grab Hermione by the arm and pull her back before the cauldron exploded.
-=-
Hermione felt cold droplets of water falling on her face. She mustered her strength and curled her fingers. She felt mud and grass under her aching fingertips. She furrowed her brow and opened her eyes, closing them almost immediately because of the glare of light that seemed to pierce her brain.
She groaned and she heard another person stir nearby. It even hurt to breathe.
Her fingers scrabbled slowly, painfully through the muck and grass towards the sound. She took a deeper breath and it hurt slightly less this time.
She felt cold fingertips touch her own and they suddenly gripped hers tightly.
"Cissy?"
The voice sounded groggy and suddenly Hermione remembered what had happened.
Lucius had pulled her back and had shielded her from the blast. He had taken the brunt of the explosion and now it would seem, they were far away from where they had started and she didn't know how injured he was.
Hermione forced her eyes open and allowed them to painfully focus on the world around her.
There were no buildings that she could see, just a muddy road, fat droplets of rain, and some bare trees. Lucius lay in the mud beside her, his wand in pieces in the muck and his forehead split open, blood pouring out over his face and mixing with the steady rain falling from the sky.
Hermione scrabbled for the wand in her robes and thankfully found it intact. She sighed and thanked her charms experiments on dimensional pockets for making her robes appear to be empty when laden with items.
First, she mended the cut on his forehead. Then she checked him for shock. He seemed to have gotten quite a thump, but he didn't seem to be severely damaged. She preformed a simple healing spell just to make sure.
Lucius' blue-gray eyes opened widely and Hermione saw the surprise in them.
"What happened?" Lucius asked. He made no attempt to move and his speech seemed a little slurred.
"Something went wrong." Hermione's eyes darted around. "I don't know where we are."
Lucius struggled to sit up and Hermione winced at his clumsy movements.
"Neither do I," Lucius said with a shrug before laying back down again.
Hermione looked around again, this time starting to worry. She thought she'd be able to make some sort of shelter out of fallen branches and vegetation.
She transfigured herself a primitive looking knife and then magically made a shelter. If they were found by Muggles it wouldn't look suspicious.
She moved Lucius gently, in spite of her foul mood.
As much as she disliked him, it wasn't his fault, and if Harry really was in love with Draco she'd probably have to get used to at least being polite to the man.
Once inside, she cleaned most of the mud off of them and realized their robes were in tatters.
She transfigured a rock into an old cloak and tucked it under Lucius' head for comfort. Then she transfigured another rock into a brown drawstring sack and did the same for herself. She transfigured another cloak to wrap around themselves and then she slept, close to him for warmth.
Lucius was awoken by the sound of hooves. His eyes flew open and he reached for Granger's wand. It was on the ground near her makeshift pillow. She wasn't awake yet and every second could count.
He sat up and poked his head out of their shelter. He squinted as he looked to the muddy road. Several men in clothing from the dark ages were approaching.
Lucius swore under his breath and quickly transfigured he and Hermione's robes to something more suitable, yet still tattered.
Hermione's eyes opened and widened at her view of Lucius in leggings and a shirt, pointing a wand at her.
"We're pre-renaissance, at the very least," Lucius grumbled.
"Perfect." Hermione sighed as she examined her clothing under the cloak she had thrown over herself. She was wearing a loose, dirty blue dress that was torn, nearly obscenely.
She squeaked in surprise as she covered herself up and glared at Lucius.
"I'll tell them you were assaulted by highwaymen," Lucius said quickly.
"You most certainly will not!" Hermione huffed.
"I most certainly will!" Lucius rounded on her angrily. "They'll assume I'm some sort of Lord traveling with a servant." Hermione made a face at this. "If they think you've been assaulted and I am upset about it, they'll assume you're my slip on the side and they're not to do it themselves."
Hermione felt the color drain from her face.
"Unless you're particularly interested in experiencing medieval gang rape and undertaking a practical study of ancient sexually transmitted diseases," Lucius snarled at her.
"Why?" Hermione demanded. "You could have a wife, a daughter, a cousin. Why do I have to be a servant? Surely they wouldn't assault a woman they think is related to you!"
"Because we can gather information from both ends if you're a servant," Lucius said, his mouth a tense, tight line. "You have the wand and you'll have the run of the castle. You know what to look for to find the magical community. They were deeply hidden at this time and most likely anything remotely magical would be carefully hidden from the Muggle nobility."
Hermione felt her upper lip twitch as she wanted to snarl at him. He had insulted her, but he had admitted he was a dunderhead that didn't know what he was doing. The fury bubbled up in her stomach.
"Why do you get to be a noble at all?" she snapped at him.
"Because I'm a Malfoy!" Lucius hissed at her. "That's why!"
Hermione snorted at him and rolled her eyes.
"Now, look upset, but don't wail," Lucius said as the horses drew closer. "Lower born women were used to such indignities in this time."
Hermione was furious, but stayed silent. What a horrible place to be stuck in. Tears started streaming down her cheeks with frustration, but against all odds, Lucius didn't seem to be leading her astray. His plan did make sense. For now, she couldn't come up with anything better, and at the very least he wouldn't be underfoot all the time.
Lucius called out and Hermione heard the hooves stop and horses snorting outside the shelter.
She gathered the cloak around here from nervousness. She noticed Lucius flick her wand at himself, casting a silent spell, inside the shelter so the others couldn't see. Then he looked back at her and flicked it at her as well. She didn't feel any different, but she noticed the grumbling she heard outside the shelter started shaping into words.
A translation charm.
To her surprise, he then tossed her wand to her and she quickly hid it into a pocket she quickly transfigured on the inside of her dress.
Lucius stood and walked out of the shelter and began talking to the men. To Hermione's surprise, she heard men dismounting and the heavy sounds of men dismounting their horses and their heavy boots landing in the mud.
She poked her head out of the shelter and gaped as the men knelt in front of Lucius.
The short, stocky men were dirty and were wearing light, rusty chain mail and thin metal helmets. She saw dirty brown hair poking out from underneath them. Their shirts were various dirty colors, but their leggings were a dark red.
Lucius drew himself up and nearly let his lip curl at the Muggles in the mud, but he nodded and told them to rise to their feet.
Hermione listened as Lucius explained they had been accosted by bandits and she had been 'used in a most barbaric fashion.'
The men peered at her, but seemed to be too much in awe of Lucius to allow her much more than a glance. Hermione let out a breath. At least she wouldn't have to hex anyone and modify memories today.
"Of course, sir. We'll take you to the baron's holdings right away, sir." A small man bowed to Lucius.
Hermione frowned. Apparently the translation spell had some kinks. She hoped things sounded more normal on the ancient Muggle end of things.
She watched as Lucius was helped onto one of the horses and the youngest of the riders, a boy of about fifteen with hair the color of straw and wide brown eyes, helped her from the shelter and helped fasten her cloak around her tightly.
Hermione was helped through the mud and to a horse of her own.
"Don't mind Bess, miss," the boy said under his breath. "She's as gentle as a lamb."
Hermione was helped into the saddle and the boy took the reins so that he could lead the horse for her as he walked beside the beast.
Hermione threw one last look at the shelter she had made for the both of them, spying the pieces of Lucius wand in the mud, looking so much like just another snapped twig.
-=-
Hermione was separated from Lucius when they reached the small castle and bustled through a small servants entrance on the east side of the castle.
Lucius threw her a sharp look as they led his horse through the ramparts and then she was on her own.
A young red-haired girl, by Hermione's estimate, about ten years old, led her into a small room with a tub of lukewarm water. There were clean clothes waiting for her on a small wooden stool and a length of cloth to dry off with.
Hermione silently wondered how often they prepared a bath as the girl closed the door and left her alone.
Hermione stripped her clothing off, taking care to remove her wand from it's sheath in her skirt. It wouldn't do to have a serving girl come in and whisk her wand away while she was bathing.
However, it wouldn't do to be caught waving a wand around either.
Hermione scrunched her nose up and thought. There was an option. It was an experimental spell, but the theory was sound.
Hermione laid her wand out in the palm of her hand and started concentrating. She watched the wood bend and flex, shrinking itself down and curling into a plain wooden ring. She slipped it onto her finger and waved her hand at her bath water, being careful to make concise movements with her hand. She felt her fingers tingle and suddenly magical energy shot through them, burning them as the heating spell she was casting went off and heated her bath water.
She bit back a cry and quickly cast a healing spell on her blistered fingers.
Well, she now knew better than to do that again.
She slid into the warm water and scrubbed the dirt and grime from her body. She rinsed her hair out the best she could and cursed as she discovered she didn't have so much as a comb to untangle her unruly locks.
She pulled her fingers through her damp hair and was thankful her hair was long enough when wet to braid. As it dried, she knew it would curl and hold itself together.
She stepped from the bath and dried herself off, her toes curling up as she stepped onto the cold stone floor.
She picked up the dress that had been left for her.
There was a knock at the door and Hermione started. She knew she couldn't stay in the room forever, but she was hoping for a little more time to gather her thoughts.
"Can I come in, my dear?" Hermione heard a familiar muffled voice call out from behind the door. It wasn't Lucius.
She frowned and looked at the door suspiciously. "Who's there?" She couldn't place the voice, but she knew she had heard it before.
"Friar Weatherbee," the muffled voice called out. "I was sent for after hearing bandits caused you distress."
Hermione's jaw dropped and she flung the door open.
He was in his forties, his brown hair forming a ring around his wide, fat head. His pleasant, ruddy face was set in a look of worry and his hands were folded, sitting on the belly of his brown robes. His face was full of life and his eyes had smile crinkles at the corners.
"You've got to be kidding," she whispered.
Then she fainted.
-=-
" I fear it's all been too much for her."
Hermione heard an unfamiliar deep voice mutter over her. There was more movement in the room, away from the voice and she knew there were others around her.
"I'm so sorry, sir, that this unfortunate incident happened in one of our holdings," another voice, a scratchy high-pitched one, said. "With time I'm sure she will recover."
Hermione fought back a frown. This fellow wasn't concerned about her at all, but about the political repercussions.
"These are dark times," Hermione heard Lucius say. "No one can feel safe anymore."
Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. He was certainly enjoying the drama of this.
"Indeed," the deep voice said. "Well, what she probably needs is some rest. She's had quite a shocking experience."
"I will stay with her," Hermione heard Lucius say. "She will be comforted to see me nearby if she awakens."
"Of course," the scratchy voice said. "We will leave you."
Hermione heard people shuffle from the room and the door close heavily.
"I know you're awake," Lucius said.
Hermione opened her eyes and looked at him. "How did you know?"
"You raised an eyebrow when that utter twat started talking," Lucius muttered.
Hermione snickered and struggled to sit up.
"What happened to you?" Lucius demanded. "Where is your wand?"
Hermione held up her right hand and showed him the wooden ring. "I ran into the Fat Friar. He's not dead."
Lucius blinked. "The Hufflepuff ghost?" He looked stunned. "I... suppose that would be a bit of a shock."
"It was," Hermione said in an annoyed tone as she threw off the bed covers and sat on the edge of the bed. Her head still felt a little woozy. "Well at least we know who our contact to the magical world will be."
"Well, for some bizarre reason the Muggles think I'm a Pendragon and they're treating me as such," Lucius said offhandedly. He had a swagger to his manner as he said it.
"What?!" Hermione blustered.
"Apparently there are sonnets and songs about the decedents of Arthur having long, white, strong hair," Lucius said with a toss of his head and it's luxurious locks.
Hermione snorted. "Well, I've never heard any."
"Well, they were probably lost or forgotten or something," Lucius hissed. "The point is, we got off easy. If they thought we were spies or scouts from an invading barony we might be in quite a mess."
"Fine," Hermione snarled, her fingers gripping the sheet beneath her. She wanted to smack him. "And that's easy for you to say. They think you're practically a God. I'm just another servant."
"First, you still have your wand," Lucius said, his lip curling. "Second, you have freedoms I won't. I'm never alone. There's always someone nearby to tell me the history and story behind every bauble and knick-knack in this place. There's even a boy that holds the pot when I have to piss."
His face was screwed up with revulsion.
Hermione felt a bit better. At least she could relieve herself in private.
"Third, they'll leave you to your own devices. The rumors already flying. They're wondering if you're my lover, my bastard daughter, or both," Lucius said, sneering at her.
"Well, that's disgusting," Hermione said, throwing him a look of distaste.
"Live with it if you want to be left alone," Lucius said sharply.
"Fine!" Hermione snarled.